


It's Not Your Fault

by Backwoulds



Series: Blood On My Name [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, Emotional Hurt, Father Figures, Gen, Hunter's Funeral, Hurt/Comfort, Original Character Death(s), Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-21 02:42:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10676031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Backwoulds/pseuds/Backwoulds
Summary: Reader deals with the death of their father. (Gender neutral)





	It's Not Your Fault

_It's not your fault._  
  
It's the most hollow thing you've ever heard in your life.  
  
_It's not your fault._  
  
But it happened, and it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't—  
  
_It's not your fault._  
  
You feel like you're trapped in a scene out of “Good Will Hunting,” except instead of having a heart-to-heart with Robin Williams about some unfortunate childhood trauma, you're standing next to the headstone that's going to mark your father's grave because of the biggest mistake you've ever made in your life. And even calling it a grave is a mistake, because there's nothing left of your father to bury. You burned him according to tradition. You and your surrogate family (your only family now, you tell yourself) built a funeral pyre and burned your father's body and when it was all over, you decided to stand here and feel sorry for yourself even though everyone around you is telling you—  
  
_It's not your fault._  
  
It's colder than it has any right to be, but you're not sure you care. Dean has wrapped his jacket around your shaking shoulders, but it doesn't feel warm. It feels heavy, and it feels undeserved. It does nothing to stop your shivering.  
  
John waves him away. Dean hesitates, wanting so much to do something more, but John's face convinces him to shut up and do as he's told. You barely notice. You're staring in to the ashes of the pyre, wondering how much of your dad is left and how much of it is just burning wood.  
  
“It's not your fault,” John says, and you realize you've been hearing it in your head this entire time.  
  
You want to respond, but you can't. You can't find your voice. Maybe it's in the ashes with what's left of your dad. Maybe it's gone forever. You feel like you're going crazy, but you can't find the strength to care.  
  
John's hand falls on your shoulder, and you realize he's trying to turn you to face him. Immediately, you start to struggle, as though refusing to tear your eyes away is some kind of talisman that will keep this all from being real. If you stare long enough, if you really let yourself go nuts, then maybe all of this will be a dream, and your dad will wake you up in a few minutes and you'll both have a good laugh over how vivid your nightmares can get when you eat too soon before bed.  
  
Finally, John grabs your arm and jerks you around to face him. The spell is broken in an instant and reality comes crashing down on you. Your lips are trembling and before you realize what's happening, your entire body is wracked with great, heaving sobs. The pain in your chest is unbearable. You start to scream, the sounds tearing from your throat like a wild animal's. John's usually stoic face falls. You see your hurt reflected in his eyes for just the briefest moment before he's crushing you against his chest, stroking your hair and whispering quieting sounds in your ear.  
  
“Shhh,” he murmurs, his voice deep and calm. “It's okay, kid. Let it out.”  
  
You clutch at his shirt like he's the only thing holding you to this world. Your cries are desperate, terrified. You're worried it will never stop. Your dad is dead. You haven't understood until just now what that actually means. Your dad is dead, and he's never coming back. Your dad is dead, and—  
  
_It's not your fault._  
  
But you're never going to believe that.


End file.
